Dacey Hadn't Want To Come To The Westerlands. She Was Anxious Enough About Travelling To Begin With,

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written in October 1920, featured in The Diary of Virginia Woolf: Vol.2, 1920-1924

TRUTH SERUM: It's time to make the 8! What one person would you bed from all the different regions of Westeros?

dacey's face flushed a deep scarlet. "that is not a question i am comfortable answering." even if she was not so private of a person, this would still feel far too personal. "certainly nobody from the westerlands or the crownlands." there was not a single person in either court she could see herself taking to bed. "hugo vance was kind to me, so perhaps he would not be objectionable." this was proving a very difficult question for her to answer. she found herself wondering who would be kind, and who had honour. "wylliam swann. percival templeton. ravi martell. brandon karstark."

the sound of brandon karstark laughing was not an unfamiliar sound, but neither was it one that dacey was used to hearing as a result of something she had said. she had managed to swallow her own laughter at aleksander's expense earlier on, but brandon's own amusement coaxed it from her now. and yet, she would not be disloyal to the younger karstark now. "he was doing me a kindness," she attempted to explain. "i don't wish to insult whoever picked it out for me but it was... not to my taste. he might have abandoned me for a westerner, but he did save me from a night of wearing the that thing."

there had never been a time where the sight of stark and karstark in conversation, even dancing with one another, would have been a cause for raised eyebrows. not until now. she did not know if the separation was as felt by brandon as it was in winterfell. she had not spoke with owen about it, nor any of her other siblings, but she would not have been surprised if they harboured similar sentiments to dacey herself, that there was a wrongness to how everything had unfolded, and yet she was uncertain if there was really anybody at fault, or blame to be laid.

but if such a chasm was to exist, she would not be the one to further it. and once again, dacey found herself creeping in to something she did not really understand, trying to make the broken pieces fit back together.

it is not my own. dacey knew that people lied, for some as naturally as breathing. she did not believe brandon to be one of them, not he who had always been so honest, who had not lied to her when it had mattered most. in those five words, she would hear nothing but truth, because that was what she wanted to hear. if it were foolish to trust him now, then a fool she would be. she nodded her head, a silent acknowledgment of such sentiment.

"then i am sorry." had anybody told him that they were sorry? she did not know what had been said between him and owen behind closed doors. "you deserve more than to be made to represent something that is not your truth." they were not honeyed words, delivered with another intent, but said because that was exactly what dacey meant.

♞

"she's what?" brandon asked, an incredulous sound to his voice that was far rougher around the edges than he ever could have anticipated - perhaps because of all the things he was expecting to hear this night, the idea of aleksander finding himself tangled up and enjoying the company of some westerwoman was at the bottom of his list. "he's what?" he repeated, in the very same tone, though this time accompanied with the sound of his own laughter. the idea of him wearing the mask that belonged to the princess; perhaps he had been in the cups for all of this night.

if gods be good, he'll awake tomorrow and the redheaded girl will be a memory, or halfway out of the door. "yeah, he has his moments alright."

he heard her quiet comment regarding not appearing so out of place, and whilst his first initial reaction was to begin to dismiss it, he found himself holding his tongue; perhaps because he did not want to draw further attention to whatever feelings of self-consciousness she felt. they were in the middle of the dance floor, and whilst they could be spotted, they would not be in the forefront of all attention - apart from any courtiers of the north, who could very much be wondering what it was the pair were doing associating with one another.

but that was the thing - the narrative that had begun, was not a narrative of his own. it was not brandon karstark who called for the true north; his fracture from court was for no greater purpose than to stand by his own morals.

and stop himself from killing jin renshu; if it were the very last thing he would do, it would be that. if there was any matter he would risk facing the worst of sentences for, it was that. but he could do not that - not yet, not until aleksander had gotten married and had at least one heir to secure the family line. the slight frown that crossed her features, illuminated in candlelight, was the reason he wanted to speak to her in the privacy of such a thing - a dance was public, but their conversation was between them. "it is not my own." he responded, his tone quieter now; as though he wanted her to believe him.

because he would always care for what the starks thought of him. their sun of winter; he who knew no king other than whose name was stark. "i didn't call for it. people use what is already public to have their own issue."

there was something disconcerting about being in the westerlands. that gnawing feeling of unease had been blooming in the pit of dacey's stomach since the starks had left the crownlands, notably absent two sisters. she had thought of little else in the days since, spending her nights obsessing over their fates, wondering if there was more she could have done. she hadn't wanted to come, but she could also not deny that she would feel the same anywhere. it didn't matter if she was in winterfell, or the west.

still, she was on edge, but the sight of one familiar face offered relief. margaret blackwood looked like dacey felt, and she could not blame her for that. house stark was suffering, but so too were her cousins. she had heard the news of merindah's death, and was so intimately familiar with loss herself that she knew exactly how the other woman must be feeling.

the greeting was unusual for margaret, but dacey caught on quickly. she nodded her head, returning it with one equally formal. "lady blackwood," despite the rigidity of her tone, she reached out one hand, fingers briefly making contact with maggie's own and squeezing in a way she hoped communicated all they were not saying aloud. she wished this was a more joyous reunion.

she struggled for a moment to think of the right words to say, but there were none. instead, dacey elected to throw caution to the wind. she could not pretend. "i am very sorry. to hear of your sister. if there is anything i can do..." she trailed off. what could she do? what support could she offer? "how are you holding up? and your brothers?"

setting: the kingdom of the westerlands, when the other kingdoms begin arriving, margaret runs into her cousin ; starter for @daceystvrk

steps that once felt so confident and airy felt entirely too weighty for the lady of raventree, who could not help but be hyper aware of her surroundings in the westerlands. she could not tell if it was this kingdom in particularly that unsettled her, or being, once again, in foreign lands after her sister’s passing. even now it felt too quiet without the younger blackwood chittering in her ear. she recalled praying for a more silent journey to her next destination, but now the silence haunted her.

the great hall was bustling with guests, she recognized some faces from the other kingdoms, but not the names. she catapulted back to their time in king’s landing, but she knew it were important to either impress, or go by unnoticed, for their own soon to be queen was a princess of these very lands.

margaret found some reprieve in one of the many corridors, intriguing artwork lining the walls, and she placed herself in front of one of the paintings in an attempt to look as if she were doing…*something*. hazel hues turned at the sound of footsteps, and she found relief in the sight of her cousin. “d-your grace.” she greeted the other, offering a bow of her head in respect of the woman. she would normally resort to more informal greetings, but maggie felt she could not be too careful, here. “i hope the journey was well, for you.”

percival asked her to forgive him, and for a moment, a flicker of confusion crossed dacey's face - until she realised just how short her words had been. guilt gnawed at her, her head shaking. "there is nothing to forgive, my lord." she offered him a small, genuine smile. "in fact, i should be offering you my apologies. i did not mean to be short with you." her hands clasped before her, as they often did when she was trying to ground herself. "i am sure you can understand it's been rather a lengthy few days. long enough that i seem to have forgotten my manners."

he approached the tapestries, and dacey followed, looking upon threads she was so familiar with. "this one," she pointed to the relevant hanging, the one that told the tale of the night's king and his dead queen. "the man in the centre, in the night's watch armour, is the night's king. the armies approaching him are that of king brandon the breaker and the king beyond the wall. it is a story every northern child knows." it was one that had given her nightmares for weeks the first time she had been told of it, though she had never told anybody this, simply endured the dark circles and stifling yawns through her lessons as a girl.

"he was supposedly a brother of the night's watch who married an other and declared himself king of the nightfort, with his corpse queen at his side. he reigned for years, using dark magics to bend his sworn brothers to his will, until the two kings joined forces to defeat him." she lingered upon the tapestry for a moment, then turned to look at percival. "or he saw a pretty girl, manipulated the watch into following him, and the rest was embellished in the retelling over the years."

The tale of Adam Stark, the Giantslayer had reached the Vale, of course. It was a grand act that a man like him could admire, for it was the sort of tale that could echo in time to become a legend. His own mind was often geared toward legacy and what was in his hands to ensure the name Templeton remained as high as possible, soaring close to the name of Arryn in relation to the Vale. The Knight of Ninestars hummed lightly as the princess gave a very short recounting of the giant's head her family showcased. “I will make sure to ask him, then,” he said with a nod. “Forgive my curiosity, princess. I'm a knight, I'm sure you can imagine a man in my position can only admire what your brother did”.

It was not hard to miss that Dacey Stark felt more keen to speak of the tapestries, and the knight showed his eagerness to listen to those tales. The Knight of Ninestars walked closer to the wall to examine the detailed work of one of the pieces. The embroidery and weaving displayed imagery that was not so different from the paintings in his keep about the Battle of the Seven Stars, with the Templeton army on the side of the Falcon Knight, Artys Arryn. Battles and wars were the making of the world.

One thing caught his attention, though. “The Night's King?” he asked, turning to look at the Northern princess. Some knew it, some did not, but Percival Templeton did not believe in gods. He did not believe in dark forces beyond the Wall either. “The story of the Long Night and all that? Forgive me, I'm only vaguely familiar with that myth. I never gave much stock, or attention, to it when I was little,” he admitted as he glanced from the tapestry to the princess.

"easy enough, yes," there was a glimpse of a smile, tired and heavy and devoid of any real amusement. "but not right." brandon had been a guiding light for the starks for a long time ; so long that it was difficult to think of him as anything but infallible, someone who held answers where they were needed. he was not that anymore, nor did she imagine he wanted to be, but old habits died hard.

"i'm sure there are." finding answers would not be the issue, she expected, but finding answers from people she trusted was another matter entirely. it wasn't that she was cynical. if anything, she was naïve, offering more goodwill than was deserved at times, but the list of people she could trust dwindled by the day. she was certain brandon would understand that. you could not go through something like what he had faced and not lose some of your ability to trust.

the facts as dacey understood them were this: alysanne, whether with the best of intentions or not, had dabbled in things best left untouched. alysanne was gone, and there were no clues to unravel, no leads to follow, and no indication she would ever return. alysanne had left behind her remnants of what, in dacey's eyes, was a dire mistake, and the only thing she could do was ensure nobody else had to pay the price for it.

"then i suppose i know where i should start," there was a resigned sort of acceptance in her voice, as though she'd rather be doing anything else but that, and that was because she would. "assuming her associates will make themselves known to me." she had no idea how to circumnavigate that particular snag, but she would cross that bridge when it came to it.

at the mention of jon, something in her seemed to shift. her back stiffened, an anger uncharacteristic to dacey crossing her face. "we were all desperate." what had happened had broke something in dacey, perhaps beyond repair. she understood desperation, but this she could not condone. "there are still lines that should not be crossed. are not meant to be crossed." she understood her view of the world wasn't the norm, too idealistic, to unrealistic, especially for the north, but if this was the depths they were willing to stoop to, did that make them any better than those they would call enemies?

there was logic in what he was saying, but something tugged at the back of dacey's mind anyway. perhaps it was simply the fact she was born with all the caution other starks lacked, too much of it. she'd never been one for kicking a hornet's nest - and the situation at winterfell had never felt so complex. "was," she repeated, more of a musing than anything else.

"yes," she had to concede that, if nothing else, owen would want to know. "and yet you know all you have told me, and don't know if he does. which means you haven't told him, either." it was not an accusation, her words as gentle as they had been since the moment she entered the room. "and i understand our reasons may be different," she added. "but what good would it do? he can't stop her. she isn't here to stop."

♞

there was a level of self consciousness that became clear in the minor details of how she stood before him, and yet there had never been a time where he could not recall her in such a way. "easy to assume." he spoke, referencing the culture of karhold: they were further north than many, with their own dialect. the sun tongue. and dacey before him, had always remained the quiet princess, the soft princess, caught in the middle of the pack: who would ever hear the gnawing of paws upon the dirt of the earth when the others howled over each of her attempts?

"there are many who would be able to provide you with the real answers you seek." the north was rooted in ancient practices, a place so strange he almost forgot - that was until he was beyond the wall, visiting his uncle who remained the current lord commander of the night's watch. the desolate emptiness and the creeping knowledge of what remained beyond the wall, the strange practices that caused a chill to run down the back of his spine.

he could delve further into the information regarding what it was she sought that night, reveal the conversations they had within the wagon or atop horseback through all weathers as they passed through the neck. he was not knowledgeable enough about such practices, though he had gotten her message all too clearly: there was ample risk in what it was she was planning to do. he cleared his throat slightly as the memories of the night flooded back to him, the churning sound of the wind and the leaves beneath his feet as he witnessed her stood by a fire; and when she looked up at him, there was blood running from her nose. with eyes that remained black.

and perhaps he would have backed away rather than forward, if he had not been confronted with what it was the old gods could force upon mortals merely some weeks earlier. he'll never forget the way in which meera reed's body had remained warm, for the days they spent travelling for her to be entombed within karhold. the sight of her eyes as they opened, and she drew in a large amount of breath that sounded like her last all the while.

"i can confirm the princess spent time studying such practices. she had many associates within the woods." the witches, who too worked methods that could be used for good or for evil. brandon firmly believed it was not magic itself that was evil, but how it was to be used. "after the murder of the late prince, she was desperate." and those were all the words he was ready to say on the matter, until she spoke of perhaps not mentioning details to the king.

brandon found himself wondering how he had managed to stumble himself in such a situation - as though he had not sworn the personal matters of the starks was not his issue. and now, the princess admitted to perhaps withholding information from the king - information he knew. "we both know the fixation the king holds on knowing all the facts." brandon responded. speaking objectively about his closest friend, his closest companion: who had once been so much shorter than him. "he would want to know. she was his twin, in the end."

TRUTH SERUM

feel free to ask anything, in character or anonymously, and my character will be forced to answer truthfully.

Send a question to: dacey - devani - norbie - minty - conall - halima - ben - tion - elia

dacey stark - a future au

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school years

whilst the stark family have a long history, dacey was always quietly determined to make her own way in life. she did not have many friends in school, keeping her head down and getting on with her studies.

a straight a student, she did not involve herself in clubs or extra curricular activities, but spent a lot of free time volunteering for charities.

despite having a very small social circle, she dated hugo vance for a while in school, parting in college as they grew apart.

adult life

dacey went to medical school, and ended up becoming a doctor - specifically, a paediatrician who works in a children's hospital on a ward for long-term patients.

she still keeps to herself, living in a country cottage with her golden retriever, lily.

before starting her job at the hospital, she spent some time travelling to provide medical care for underprivileged children. it was on her travels she met safeerah jordayne, and they dated for six months before parting ways on good terms.

currently, dacey is in a relationship with ulises tarth, after being introduced by her brother, adam.

"of course," dacey nodded. she had no objections to him taking ownership of the pictures, considering the first strip was already tucked away in her wallet, and even if they weren't, she would have consented anyway, if only to make him happy. with ulises, she had gotten lucky, finding herself in a relationship that brought her the sort of peace and stability she had always craved, but as comfortable as she was with him, saying no when he asked something of her didn't come easily.

her fingers laced with his as they walked. "i'm honestly surprised so many people wanted to come back," she admitted. "i probably wouldn't if you didn't want to." school hadn't been awful for dacey, but in her awkward, teenage years, she had made very few friends, spending most of her time with hugo vance, her siblings, or people who knew her through her brothers and sisters. her social circle had widened in adulthood, but not enough that it would have been worth the journey if not to spend a little extra time together, away from the routine of home.

"i suppose it's nice that so many people wanted to be here, though." even if it had taken her until long after school to come out of her shell, there was something sweet about the fact that so many people felt so warmly about it that they'd made the effort. "remind me to ask my family if they want to have dinner while we're all here. it's not often we're all in the same place at once."

Ulises tucked a strand of Dacey's hair behind her ear when their photoshoot was over, helping her make sure she looked okay before they walked out of the booth. Just then, she also reached over to wipe the trace of her lipstick on the corner of his lips, making Ulises smile a little. Simple gestures like these, or bigger ones in their daily lives, they looked after each other.

Once outside the booth, he stood close to Dacey as they saw the results of their second photoshoot. “I love these,” Ulises murmured, a tender smile appearing on his lips. The first ones they took were cuter while these were a bit more playful, and both seemed so romantic to Ulises. “Can I keep these?” he asked. He could already picture having them at one of their bookcases at their place, so the pictures would be more theirs than his anyway.

Ulises' hand slipped into hers and he looked around the fair as well when they walked. “Yeah, a lot of people came here. A lot comes back to this place,” he said, which felt like a massive understatement considering so many of those in their social circle came from this place. It all connected back to this school in one way or another. Ulises wouldn't have befriended Adam if it wasn't for this school, and he wouldn't have met Dacey. “I've seen alumni from so many different years too. I guess that's why it feels like so many of us showed up”. A good sign, he thought. With so many alumni, it was possible the donation efforts would meet their goal.

she nodded her head. it was little surprise that owen would extend an invitation to the remaining targaryens of the black faction, both out of enduring loyalty, and because of his distaste for king jaehaerys. friendship ensured between their families, and even if it did not, it was not for dacey to question the decisions of her brother when said brother was also her king. "i look forward to seeing your sister, too." she had exchanged letters with aemma targaryen over the years, but an in-person meeting was a different matter entirely. "it is good to have you both with us."

dacey began to walk, gesturing for him to follow as she led him from the courtyard to the gardens. it seemed that most of the guests had yet to discover this part of winterfell, the one she deemed the most beautiful, and the large glass dome of the winter gardens was deserted when they slipped into it. "oh, i would not want you to keep him waiting," teeth came down over her lip, suddenly a little anxious that she had distracted baelon from what he truly wanted to do.

The North's loyalty and friendship was something that Baelon truly cherished and appreciated. He knew how hard it was to come by that now a days, mostly with how the war between the greens and the blacks ended. They didn't end up with that many allies but the northern were a constant, they would not break their oaths. He did not take them for granted of course, he would show how much he appreciated them. "Yes, I am. Your brother invited us to attend and I could not send my sister alone on this trip." He said with a smile. "And it was a perfect chance to meet with my friends from the North once again."

Baelon shook his head. "Of course not, it would be my pleasure to accompany you and keep you company for a few moments." He could not blame her for wanting to find some peace and quiet, there were quite a few people currently arriving in Winterfell and he could only imagine how anxious she must be feeling, seeing so many people invading her home, most of them strangers. "I will be seeking him out soon enough. I'm sure he won't mind that I take a few moments to keep his sister company before going to greet him." He said with a smile.